What I Walk Away From Is Not My Master

My head hurts. Not much feeling like facing this morning…this day. Waiting on meds to kick in and erase the me and transform me to the she. She’s the one people like. I’m the one they avoid. 

Last evening, I was staring at Bennie’s picture, thinking about that giant bill for a surgery that he, and all parties involved, knew he couldn’t survive. Yeah, I was ticked off, as usual, about it. Mad at him. So extremely pissed at those ghouls that did the surgery. Wondering why it went down the way it did. Then, like a bolt of lightning, I realized that the reason why he agreed to the surgery was so he’d be knocked out when he died…he’d never feel that horrible pain, or lie in a hospital bed wondering when the end was coming. They knew it was going to be that day, but they did not know the hour or minute that Death would come for him. He agreed to the surgery so that he could decide when his time would come. Bless his heart. I understand now, and I feel so relieved. It’s a huge load off my shoulders to finally get it. 
It means everything to me to know. Finally, an answer in a sea of a million ‘whys’.

live by the drug, die by the drug

This dude, Biggie, died a horrible death about two weeks ago.As it was told to me,  it all started when he was was pulled over for a traffic violation. He had 3 eight balls on him. When he saw the lights behind him, he swallowed the bags.
He was already feeling sick by the time the stop was over, but not so much that the officer noticed. Biggie left the stop and hauled ass to a friend’s house. There were several people at the house. They said that, when he arrived, he was beet red, heart 1~2racing…saturated with sweat. He quickly became unconscious. Paramedics were called as the people at the house began the futile attempt to save his life.
As seconds turned to minutes, they tried to induce vomiting, to no avail. Biggie had a seizure while they ran a cold bath, trying to get his temp down. Minutes later, help arrived. He was dead shortly thereafter. Meth overdose in the extreme.

Biggie was a one man plague when I knew him. Obviously in his mid twenties, he hung out with teenagers, provided them with drugs and alcohol, and was just a really bad guy. I figured him for a cop or, at the least, a snitch. People went to jail when he came around. And he always made as much trouble as he could. He and I locked horns from Day 1.
After Biggie died, his dad posted to his only son’s FB wall. He said that there would be no service and that he intended to simply ‘dispose of the remains’. He was cruel. Very cruel. For all that Biggie may have been, he was a product of that man’s making. I’ve never understood how a parent could hate a child, although I think I hated my youngest, at one time. Even so, I did everything in my power to protect him from the likes of Biggie. I went to Hell and back for that kid, and now he’s a good man who has left dope behind.

There are many reasons that I hated Biggie. The absolute tipping point came when, one night at a party, he got my youngest on the ground and kicked him in the head over and over again. Once Youngest got up, he put an ass whippin on Biggie that made him regret doing all that kicking. Somewhere in the middle of it all, a gun came out and I got a call from Youngest’s girlfriend screaming for me to get over to the house they were at fast. I did. She and Youngest were at the end of the driveway. She was holding him back the best she could. There were about seven people in the front yard, all threatening my son as his girl begged them to stop while pleading with Youngest to just walk away.


I got there a few minutes after the call. I jumped out and tried to get Youngest in the truck. This one bitch was throwing beer bottles at us, and that was just making Youngest more angry. Then, I noticed a red dot on my son’s side while he was standing there, screaming at the people in the yard. Everybody was threatening everyone else, it seemed. Most were threatening Youngest, though I have no clue why to this very day. I got in front of Youngest and turned around to see where that dot was coming from. It was Biggie standing about ten feet away, holding a pistol with a laser sight. That sonofabitch. He didn’t even put it down when that fucking dot was on my stomach, still pointed exactly where it had been before I got between him and Youngest.
We finally got Youngest into the truck and hauled ass. He was tripping so hard he didn’t even know who I was. He was still feeling violent and his girlfriend couldn’t calm him down any better than I could. All I could think about was Biggie and that gun and that he was going to kill my son.

While I’m not happy that a young man is dead, I will say that he lived a life that couldn’t have lead him anywhere but to the grave. What goes around comes around…that’s just the way it is. But, I do hope that, one day, Biggie’s dad will get off of his high horse and realize what he lost. Whatever his faults, Biggie was his son, and that’s no small thing. I also think that the world is now short one more bad guy; One less dope slinger/snitch/dirty lil cop?/violent piece of shit. I thank God that gun didn’t go off and I am grateful that my son lived to become a good man like his brother. I’m grateful that I lived to see my grandson born. Shit could have gotten way more twisted that night. The fact that it didn’t feels like a miracle to me.

Biggie and I knocked heads a few times after that, but we never discussed what happened that night. Whatever may have ever happened between us, I honestly hate the thought of anyone going out the way he did. My God. He was, in some way, literally consumed by dope. The same shit he sold to kids took his life in a slow and painful way. He suffered. He didn’t want to die. He did not want to die. Oh, my God…I can’t even imagine the fear he must have felt; the panic. It breaks my heart for him. He was somebody’s son. And, even if that somebody didn’t love him, he cannot be denied his blood. I pray that Biggie knew God in the hour of his death and that all was forgiven, as I would want to be forgiven. I pray that someone in his family loved him enough to miss him now that he’s gone forever. Mostly, I pray that he faded out before the worst of it all. Even bad guys aren’t all bad. I know there was something good about that kid. I don’t know what good was in him, but I don’t take any joy in the horror that befell that young man on April the 26th, 2018.

the truth and burnt biscuits


in the still of this night, i remember your voice
your breath, heavy on my neck…in my ear
it’s as if your were right beside me in my lonely bed
oh, the silly imaginations that come deep in the silence of the darkness
never, since the day you died, have i felt closer to you
you are a shadow at my back
your hand is the morning sun caressing my face
your eyes seem to share my own, as i view this world so differently since you’ve gone
in the morning, as i make breakfast, i feel you sitting at the kitchen table
you never look up from your phone, or paper
some things never change
no matter how hard i try, i burn the biscuits, and, in my mind’s eye, i see you give me that look
that disgusted look, as though i’ve lost the farm on a bet
i say i’m sorry and you instantly flash a smile, as though you hadn’t just cursed me with that look of yours…that heavy sigh…the shake of your head
i begin to cry, and i feel you leave as i wipe the tears from my eyes, shooing you out of my kitchen
and i’m happy that you’re gone
because, during those few minutes, i recall the pain of being your wife
i remember what it was like to feel like a prisoner in my own home
i hear the venom in your voice when you spoke to me
the gun by your chair
the pills
the pills
the pills
and, though i’m not proud of it, i am grateful that you’re gone
but, by the light of day, the truth shows itself
and no lovely hue cast upon me by the sun can change one bit of that truth
it’s your truth…mine…ours
even though i may, sometimes, forget that truth in the still of a lonely night, i’ll always have sunshine and burnt biscuits to bring me back to reality


Morning sun spins gold across the Mayberry landscape. Birds chirp, breaking through the silence on this chilly morning. I am overwhelmed with gratitude as my spirit witnesses the evidence of God’s careful hand. 

I’m no perfect Christian, but I know God when I see Him. His presence makes itself known in birdsong…in the silhouette of the trees against the bright morning sky…and in the wildflowers that grow amidst the tall grass. I feel so small as I realize my place in this world, on this breathtakingly beautiful Sunday morning. 


‘For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.’

Isaiah 55:12

Untitled on Tuesday


There is no use being wakeful today
No reason to go outside and feel the sun’s warm rays on my skin as they make their way to the grass at my feet

My eyes arrogantly loathe the beauty beyond my window

Instead, they stare, blankly, at the wall as images of freedom capture my mind

I am angry; I hate myself because it all seems beyond my reach

Perhaps I should try a little harder

Take another pill

But I know what my only real answer is

When I’m ready, I’ll seek it out

And, at long last, I will know freedom in its purest form

Little Liars 

A bottle of Cuervo on the table speaks to me in gentle tones
The amber liquid shines in the sunlight that pours in through the window, as lovely as anything I’ve ever seen

I pick up my handbag to retrieve my afternoon dose of magic pills

They rattle around, sounding a bit like rain on a tin roof

Carefully, I pick from each bottle and a rainbow of chemical serenity appears, like candy, in the palm of my hand 

Staring at them for a moment of quiet observation

I note how many more there are than there used to be

I am disappointed in myself

I am concerned 

Little liars they are, one and all

Breaking every promise made 

Crushing every hope of being free of this ungodly pain

Even so, I toss them into my mouth, then I crack open the Cuervo and wash them down

They hit me in an explosion of warmth as I sit back and enjoy the numbness that will soon follow 

As my life fades to black before my eyes, I am grateful for the numbness

Longing for the day that it takes my hand and leads me beyond the Veil 

Early Morning Memories 

Silence prevails on this Mayberry morning 

Lending itself to my torment

As light dawns upon this lovely place

Darkness digs in its hellish heel

As I dance with your memory

To a song, unwritten 

Its lyrics linger on a gulf breeze

Forever caressing the shore of an old beach in Texas 

It’s The Little Things

Thursday’s silver song played background to a night of Hell’s making 

Tossing and turning;

Hitting and clawing at things unseen

The Hag stole my breath as devils stole my dreams

I died, throughout the night, again and again 

I could not move

I could not breathe

I was guest of honor at an unholy feast

Lying there, prone, with no possible defense

A sanguine cupcake,

Wondering what it all meant

I begged God to save me, at dawn’s first light

Yet He left me there to fight my own fight

A few hours later, they all went their way

The Hag and the devils; exhausted from play

My eyes opened, at last, and I caught, quickly, my breath

Still hearing that laughter

The room smelled of death

As I gathered my wits to begin my day

The devils faded and I saw your face

I should have known

Without any surprise

That thirty years in the ground

Does not mean that you died 


I promise you this

When I draw my last breath

Finally, free in the great Neverafter

I will come for you 

I will come for you 
Blood by blood, until it sleeps…a promise made is one to keep. 

Manic Me 

​Heart and mind race

The world screams past

So much to do 

So much to say

Life is beautiful today

The largeness of it all is nearly paralyzing

Ideas fly through my mind, each new thought crashing into those that came before

An electric heap of energized me, buzzing about my brain 

And it continues on in a hizzy tizzy dayglow display just behind my eyes

Tracers and twinkles paint their masterpiece as my thoughts dance through time and space

Leaving my ears ringing to a silver song that plays so loudly I can feel it in my bones

Dreams and hopes envelope my brain so tightly that I can feel their embrace

I can’t breathe from the excitement of it all

I’ve no idea what will come next

Nor do I care

I could live in this internal wonderland for as many as my days on this earth shall be 

Thursday Feels Alive

​The Mayberry sun blesses my tired eyes, though my heart still much prefers the darkness. An undeniably beautiful thing, that sun; Life giving and gracious, it is welcome by critters and birds and every such precious thing. As I watch them go about their morning busywork, making ready for what Life has for them today, not even I can deny that the hand of God rests upon them.